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Nonsense Veroe      : 

V  ALBERT  W. 


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P5 


The  Giant 


Other  Nonsense  Verse 


ALBERT  w.  SMITH 


ANDRUS    &    CHURCH 

ITHACA,   N.  Y. 

IQIO 


"  The  Giant,"  the  "  Arctic  Ball,"  and  "  Funnyland,"  in  slightly  different 
form,  appeared  originally  in  "The  Ladies'  Home  Journal,"  and  thanks  are 
due  to  the  editor  for  his  kind  permission  to  include  them  in  this  book. 


Copyright,  1910 
by  Albert  W.  Smith. 

Copyright,  1911 
by  Albert  W.  Smith. 


jllpheus 

T)orothy 

and 


THE  GIANT 

is  a  Giant  in  the  world 


•*•     Whose  head  is  up  so  high, 
He  has  to  get  down  on  his  knees 
To  look  up  in  the  sky. 

And  when  he  feels  the  need  of  food, 

He  wades  out  in  the  sea 
And  fishes  out  a  whale  or  two 

Just  right  to  fricassee. 

Or  if  he's  near  to  Hindustan 

He  gathers  up  a  few 
Young  elephants  with  jungle  brush 

For  oriental  stew. 

And  when  he  tires  of  earthly  food 

His  diet,  as  a  rule, 
Consists  of  planets  roasted  well 

And  hung  outside  to  cool. 

He  sends  his  wife  to  gather  them  ; 

She  brings  them  on  a  tray  ; 
For  cream  to  make  the  planet  sauce 

She  skims  the  Milky  Way. 

When  Mrs.  Giant  cooks,  the  steam 

Floats  off  across  the  sky 
In  clouds  that  drop  the  rain  that  keeps 

The  world  from  getting  dry. 


THE  GIANT 

And  sometimes  when  the  clouds  are  dark, 

The  Giant  gets  his  gun 
And  shoots  it  in  their  very  midst — 

Because  he  likes  the  fun. 

But  when  the  sky  is  clear  all  day, 

Without  a  cloud  in  sight, 
The  Giant  finds  his  supper  cold 

When  he  gets  home  at  night. 

Whenever  Mrs.  Giant  goes 

To  tidy  up  the  room, 
She  picks  a  comet  'cause  its  tail 

Is  handy  for  a  broom. 

The  Giant  drinks,  to  quench  his  thirst, 

A  whirling  water-spout ; 
He  gave  up  drinking  mountain  lakes 

Lest  he  should  have  the  gout. 

He  puts  a  forest  in  his  pipe 

When  he's  inclined  to  smoke, 
And  lights  his  match  upon  the  moon  ; 
The  moon  can't  see  the  joke  ! 

I  think,  my  child,  were  you  a  moon, 

'Way  off  in  stellar  space, 
You'd  feel  put  out  if  anyone 

Scratched  matches  on  your  face  ! 


THE  GIANT 

The  Giant  dresses  up  sometimes 

And  goes  to  take  a  stroll  ; 
And  picks  a  little  bunch  of  stars 

To  deck  his  buttonhole. 

He's  mighty  careful  which  he  takes  ; 

He  knows  the  ones  to  shun  ; 
He  burned  his  fingers  badly  once 

By  fooling  with  the  Sun. 

And  once  in  absent  minded  mood 

He  picked  a  nettle  star  ; — 
He  ran  a-yelling  all  the  way 

From  Rome  to  Zanzibar  ! 

The  islands  are  his  stepping-stones, 

The  continents  his  bed  ; 
He  slept  on  Greenland  once  and  caught 

A  snuffle  in  his  head. 

He  slides  around  the  Arctic  Pole  ; 

And  if  he  gets  a  chill 
He  goes  and  sits  a  month  or  two 

In  India  or  Brazil. 

He  caught  his  trousers  on  Cape  Horn 

And  tore  an  awful  slit  ; 
He  stayed  in  bed  a  season  while 

His  wife  embroidered  it  ; 
She  fixed  it  with  a  patch  of  sky  ; 

It  didn't  show  a  bit  ! 


THE  GIANT 

When  walking  through  a  mountain  land, 

He  sometimes  stubs  his  toe  ; 
The  shock  is  called  an  earthquake  by 

The  frightened  folks  below. 

Our  weather  only  conies  about 

Up  to  the  Giant's  knees  ; 
The  rest  of  him  sticks  up  above 

As  pleasant  as  you  please. 

So,  when  he  wants  to  dust  his  shoes, 

He  only  has  to  stand 
A  minute  in  the  middle  of 

Some  handy,  windy  land. 

He  saw  the  men  who  went  to  dig 

The  Panama  Canal. 
He  slapped  his  knees  and  laughed  until 

He  grew  hysterical. 

He  could  have  finished  that  Canal 

With  half  a  dozen  kicks  ; 
But  he  had  promised  not  to  get 

Mixed  up  in  politics  ! 

One  night  a  great  astronomer, 

While  gazing  into  space, 
By  chance  looked  through  his  telescope 

Right  in  the  Giant's  face. 


GIANT 


He  thought  it  was  the  moon  until 
The  Giant  winked  his  eye  ;  — 

The  wise  man  never  dared  again 
To  search  the  starry  sky. 

We  never  see  the  Giant,  for 

On  seeing  us  he  flies, 
Because  he  feels  so  ill  at  ease 

And  conscious  of  his  size. 


THE  ARCTIC  BALL 

gave  a  ball  in  the  Arctic  Zone, 
-*•    And  they  danced  on  the  frozen  sea. 
The  North-wind  blew  on  a  big  trombone, 
And  he  played  tunes  that  would  melt  a  stone, 
But  none  in  a  minor  key  ; 
For  that  would  melt  ice  and  lower  the  tone. 
Imagine  a  ball  in  the  Arctic  Zone 
On  a  melting,  mushy  sea  ! 

An  Arctic  ball  is  a  long,  long  thing, 

For  it's  dark  for  six  months  there. 

They  dance  from  Fall  till  early  Spring, 

The  two-step,  waltz  and  the  Highland-fling, 

Utterly  free  from  care. 

They  eat  ice-cream  that  they  have  to  blow 

To  cool  it  off  for  it  burns  them  so  ; 

And  they  all  drink  liquified  air. 

The  whalloping  whales  came  floundering  through 

A  hole  in  the  icy  floor  ; 

And  the  Seals  all  came  and  the  Caribou, 

The  old  Musk-ox,  and  the  Reindeer  too 

And  many  many  more. 

They  all  joined  feet  and  flippers  and  fins 

And  danced  'round  the  Pole  where  the  world  begins, 

With  bark  and  bellow  and  roar. 


THE  ARCTIC  BALL 

When  Boreas  started  an  Irish  reel 

The  Reindeer  pricked  up  his  ears  ; 

And  a  thrill  ran  through  him  from  antler  to  heel 

Of  longing  to  dance  that  he  couldn't  conceal, 

Although  the  most  proper  of  deers. 

So  they  scattered  some  sand  in  an  open  space 

And  gave  him  a  hearty  call  ; 

And  he  sidestepped  out  with  a  rythmical  pace, 

And  danced  to  the  reel  with  the  greatest  of  grace. 

'Twas  the  finest  thing  at  the  ball  ! 

An  Iceberg  waltzed  with  the  Northern  Light  ; 

And  she  flushed  and  smiled  and  said  : 
"O,  why,  dear  Berg,  so  cool  tonight? 

You  give  me  a  chill  and  a  frosty  fright, 

Lest  I  catch  a  cold  in  my  head." 
"  I'm  as  warm  as  I  dare  to  be,  my  sweet, 

With  dancing  and  love  of  you  ; 

If  I  loved  you  more  or  should  hurry  my  feet, 

My  blood  would  rise  to  a  fever  heat, 

Fahrenheit  thirty-two. 

And  then  I'd  melt  and  babble  away, 

From  a  tall  iceberg  to  a  big  flat  bay  ; 

Melted  for  love  of  you." 


THE  ARCTIC  BALL 

The  Walrus  danced  with  the  Polar  Bear, 
But  it  wasn't  much  for  grace ; 
Their  joints  were  rusty  and  out  of  repair  : 
But  the  Bear  wore  an  icicle  wreath  in  her  hair, 
And  the  Walrus  a  smiling  face. 
And  the  Chaperone  said,  behind  her  fan  : 
"  They're  doing  the  best  they  possibly  can, 
And  laughter  is  out  of  place  !  " 

The  North  Pole  listened  and  wondered  why 

He  felt  such  a  troublesome  thrill  ; 

Though  he  stood  stock  still  as  they  all  danced  by, 

It  was  sorely  against  his  will. 

But  if  he  should  move  just  the  wink  of  an  eye, 

The  world  would  wabble  and  things  would  fly 

And  the  oceans  would  surely  spill. 

So  he  heaved  a  sigh  and  took  a  brace 

And  held  himself  in  his  proper  place, 

And  "  the  old  world  wags  on  still." 


A  TROPICAL  AFTERNOON  TEA 

ONE  afternoon  when  a  mild  monsoon 
Blew  over  the  tropical  sea, 
On  the  ocean  strand  of  a  sandy  land 
They  gave  a  Tropical  Tea. 

O,O,  who  could  foresee 

All  the  beasts  there  would  be  at  a  Tropical  Tea  ? 

In  a  monsoony  land, 

With  a  Tropical  Band. 

O,  who  could  foresee  ? 

Every  lady  beast  attended  the  feast 

With  the  lady  birds  so  fair  ; 

But  the  Whale  and  the  Eel  were  sure  they  would  feel 

Quite  out  of  their  element  there. 

O,  O,  think  of  an  Eel  ! 

With  a  squirming  disgust  that  she  couldn't  conceal  ! 

Nothing  wet  but  the  tea, 

Far  away  from  the  sea. 

O,  think  of  the  Eel  ! 

A  truce  for  the  day  kept  the  beasts  of  prey 
From  eating  a  handy  guest  ; 
So  the  Tiger  was  there  and  the  timid  Hare, — 
Though  the  Hare  wasn't  quite  at  her  best. 


A   TROPICAL  AFTERNOON  TEA 

O,  O,  if  the  Hare  wasn't  scared  ! 

She  would  have  gone  lippetty  home  if  she'd  dared. 

But  she  gave  up  the  flight 

And  kept  well  out  of  sight. 

O,  wasn't  she  scared  ! 

The  Zebra,  sneered  when  the  Leopard  appeared, 
And  said  with  a  satisfied  smile  : 
' '  In  France  they  would  not  wear  a  dress  with  a  spot 
And  stripes  are  the  latest  style." 

O,  surely  the  Zebra  forgot 

That  the  Leopard's  unable  to  alter  a  spot  ; 

Her  critical  tone 

She'd  have  dropped  if  she'd  known. 

She  surely  forgot  ! 

The  Ostrich  was  dressed  in  her  very  best 
With  plumy  wings  outspread  ; 
But  the  Paradise  Bird  said  :   ' '  How  absurd  ! 
She  hasn't  a  plume  for  her  head  !  " 

O,  O,  it  wasn't  polite  ! 

The  Ostrich  felt  sure  that  she  looked  like  a  fright. 

She  covered  her  head 

In  a  handy  sand-bed 

Quite  out  of  their  sight. 


A  TROPICAL  AFTERNOON  TEA  n 

The  Chimpanzee  sipped  oolong  tea 

And  simpered  and  nibbled  a  sweet  ; 

And  the  Boa-constrictor  would  fain  have  kicked  her, 

But  she  hadn't  the  requisite  feet. 

O,  O,  she  wasn't  complete  ! 

A  twenty  foot  Boa  without  any  feet  ; 

If  she'd  had  twenty  three 

What  a  kicker  she'd  be  ! 

She  wasn't  complete  ! 

An  Orang-outang  came  out  and  sang 
Unembarrassed  by  the  throng  ; 
And  they  cried  encore  with  a  terrible  roar 
To  her  tropical,  topical  song. 

SONG  : 

In  the  jungle  dim  and  dusky, 

A  monkey  lithe  and  husky 

Was  hanging  by  his  long  prehensile  tail  ; 

When  he  heard  two  men,  preparing 

An  iron  cage,  declaring 

That  they'd  learn  the  monkey  lingo  without  fail. 

O,  O,  wasn't  it  fun  ! 

He  unhooked  his  tail  and  he  started  to  run  ; 

Every  simian  friend 

To  the  dim  jungle's  end 

He  told  of  the  fun  ! 


A  TROPICAL  AFTERNOON  TEA 

When  at  night  the  men  were  waiting 
Safe  behind  the  iron  grating, 
The  monkeys  came  in  crowds  from  every  way, 
And  although  it  was  exciting, 
Yet  the  men  inside  were  writing 
All  the  things  they  thought  they  heard  the 
monkeys  say. 

O,  O,  this  is  a  lark  ! 

Two  men  writing  monkey  talk  down  in  the  dark  ; 

If  they  only  could  know 

What  we're  saying,  O,  O, 

Then  'twould  be  a  lark  ! 

An  Elephant  rose  with  a  cold  in  her  nose 
And  she  thought  she  would  sing  like  a  bird  ; 
But  the  song  went  astray  on  the  wearisome  way 
Through  her  trunk,  and  it  never  was  heard. 

O,  O,  she  felt  like  a  goose  ; 

With  a  song  in  her  soul  that  she  couldn't  turn  loose  ; 

How  she  twisted  and  blew  ! 

But  it  couldn't  get  through. 

O,  what  was  the  use  ! 


A   TROPICAL  AFTERNOON  TEA  13 

A  Crocodile  with  an  afternoon  smile 
Sang  a  song  that  made  them  quail. 
Her  mouth  opened  wide  and  the  sight  inside 
Gave  point  to  her  musical  tale. 

SONG  : 

A  yacht  came  sailing  up  the  Nile, 

Sail  away,  sail  away, 
And  the  sight  made  every  crocodile  smile  ; 

Smile  away,  smile  away, 

With  a  bubbly  wake,  through  foam  and  spray, 
Through  Egypt's  land,  it  sailed  away. 

Alack-a-day  ! 

The  Sphinx  was  smiling  all  the  while, 

Smile  away,  smile  away, 
As  the  yacht  came  sailing  up  the  Nile  ; 

Sail  away,  sail  away, 

And  she  asked  them  a  riddle  that  none  could  guess 
So  she  swamped  the  yacht  in  a  wink  or  less. 

Alack-a-day  ! 

Not  a  single  person  came  to  land  ; 

Alack-a-day  !  Alack-a-day  ! 
But  crocodiles  on  every  hand, 

Smile  away,  smile  away, 
Said  ;   "  O,  we  wish  that  every  day 
A  yacht  would  happen  along  this  way  !  " 

Alack-a-day  ! 


14  A  TROPICAL  AFTERNOON  TEA 

And  everyone  stayed  till  the  twilight  shade 
Dimmed  the  tropical  afternoon. 
And  they  all  went  away  through  the  fading  day, 
By  the  moon  through  the  mild  Monsoon. 

O,  O,  it  was  a  lark  ! 

They  gossipped  and  stayed  till  the  edge  of  the  dark. 

And  some  were  afraid 

And  were  sorry  they'd  stayed. 

O,  wasn't  it  dark  ! 


THE  TIDES 

ocean  had,  in  days  of  yore, 
-*-      A  very  dirty,  mussy  shore 
From  Newfoundland  to  Singapore. 

When  mermaids  wished  to  go  to  land, 
To  sit  and  sing  upon  the  strand, 
They  had  to  flop  through  slimy  sand. 

When  Neptune  saw  this,  it  befell, 
He  took  his  dolphin  team  and  shell 
And  sped  away  across  the  swell. 

He  went  to  every  sea  and  bay, 
And  gave  his  orders  all  the  way 
From  Greenland's  rim  to  far  Cathay  ;— 

And  now  the  tides  rise  up  and  roar, 
And  twice  a  day  they  wash  the  shore 
From  Newfoundland  to  Singapore  ; 

And  beaches  lie  all  clean  and  fair, 
Where  mermaids  sing  and  take  the  air 
With  tidy  tails  and  streaming  hair. 


NIGHT  AND  DAY 

T)EFORE  Time  started  on  his  way 

-*-'     There  was  no  changing  night  and  dayj; 

The  sun  stood  still  above  Bombay. 

And  Bombay  people  had  to  hear 
The  constant  clanging  far  and  near 
Of  bells  that  called  to  noonday  cheer. 

They  ate  continuously,  for  when 
They  finished  their  dessert,  why  then 
They  started  off  with  soup  again. 

One  eats  with  pleasure  and  a  jest 
With  time  between  meals  to  digest  ; 
But  constant  eating  spoils  the  zest. 

About  three  thousand  miles  away 
In  all  directions  from  Bombay 
It  was  forever  early  day  ; 

And  people  worked  with  might  and  main 
Hoping  for  dinner  time  and  fain 
For  night  and  rest,  but  all  in  vain. 

A  sandwich  snatched,  a  wedge  of  pie, 
A  cat-nap  stolen  on  the  sly, 
These  were  the  only  reasons  why, 


NIGHT  AND  DAY 

Since  they  could  neither  rest  or  play, 
They  didn't  stop  in  sheer  dismay 
And  starve,  dry  up  and  blow  away. 

And  further  on  for  many  a  mile 
The  dawn  held  sway  with  rosy  smile, 
And  yawning  folks  dressed  all  the  while. 

*         #         #         *         #         * 

The  rest  of  earth  was  brooded  o'er 
By  endless  night,  and  one  grand  snore 
Swelled  loud  and  long  from  shore  to  shore. 

And  folks  would  wake  with  start  and  sigh 
And  rub  their  eyes  and  wonder  why 
Dawn  never  tinged  the  eastern  sky.* 

The  moon  and  stars  were  wan  and  pale 
From  overwork,  the  nightingale 
Could  only  croak  and  hoarsely  wail. 


*  Some  critic  now  will  surely  say  : — 
' '  How  could  they  think  of  dawn  when  they 
Had  never  been  where  it  was  day  ? ' ' 

Their  shiftless  forbears  may  have  pined 
In  dawn-land,  and  with  debts  behind 
Have  gone  where  they  were  hard  to  find. 

So,  gentle  critic,  be  content. 

This  hope  of  dawn  was  surely  sent 

By  atavistic  accident. 


18  NIGHT  AND  DA  Y 

But  ghosts  might  range  abroad  at  will 
Fearless  of  dawn  and  cock-crow  shrill, 
And  waken  folks  with  awful  thrill. 

'K  *P  ^  *T*  H*  ^ 

Now  Phoebus  driving  in  his  car 
With  winged  steeds  from  star  to  star, 
Passed  by  the  earth  and  from  afar 

Beheld  the  weary  human  race  ; 
He  checked  his  horses  for  a  space 
And  pondered  with  a  serious  face  ; 

Then  put  his  horses  to  the  run 

And  when  a  long  swift  course  was  done 

He  hitched  his  wagon  to  the  sun. 

Since  then  the  dusky  night  alway 
Around  the  world  has  chased  the  day  ; 
And  we  can  work  and  rest  and  play. 


FUNNYLAND 

an  island  'way  off  in  the  seas 
-*-      Where  the  babies  all  grow  upon  trees. 
It's  the  jolliest  fun 
To  swing  in  the  sun  ; 

But  they  have  to  look  out  how  they  sneeze, 
O,  I  tell  you  they'd  better  not  sneeze  ! 
They  might  break  themselves  off 
With  a  sneeze  or  a  cough 
And  tumble  down  flop  on  their  knees. 

When  the  clouds  darken  mountain  and  dale, 
When  the  breeze  freshens  up  to  a  gale, 

There  is  screaming  and  dropping 

And  laughing  and  hopping  ; — 
In  fact  little  babies  just  hail. 
They  all  lie  on  the  ground  in  a  pile, 
And  when  people  come,  after  a  while, 

They  quickly  pass  by 

The  babies  that  cry, 

And  they  pick  up  the  babies  that  smile  ; — 
O,  they  even  take  twins  if  they  smile  ! 

There's  a  tree  where  the  kitty-cats  grow. 
They  hang  by  their  tails  in  a  row  ; 

If  they  happen  to  fall, 

They  don't  mind  it  at  all, 
For  they  fall  on  their  feet  as  you  know. 


20  FUNNYLAND 

There  once  was  a  puppy-dog  tree 
That  people  came  miles  just  to  see. 

But  the  bark  was  so  loud 

That  it  scattered  the  crowd 
And  rattled  the  isles  of  the  sea  ; 

It  frightened  the  King, 

And  the  troublesome  thing 
Was  cut  down  by  a  royal  decree. 
Whenever  dogs  grow  now  at  all, 
They  are  puggy  and  snarly  and  small  ; 

They  grow  on  a  vine 

Ivike  a  squash,  and  they  whine 
Although  they  can't  possibly  fall. 

Wherever  an  elephant  grows, 

He's  always  hitched  on  by  his  nose  ; 

And  he  just  has  to  wait 

Till  his  weight  is  so  great 
That  his  nose  is  stretched  out  to  a  hose  ; — 
That  accounts  for  his  rubbery  nose. 
And  sometimes,  when  something  is  wrong, 
The  elephant  hitch  is  so  strong 

That  he  fails  to  get  free 

From  the  elephant  tree 
Till  his  nose  is  a  hundred  feet  long. 

So  he  buys  a  hose-cart 

To  trundle  a  part 
Of  his  nose  as  he  lumbers  along. 


FUNNYLAND 

Any  sensible  person  should  know 

How  giraffes  are  hitched  on  when  they  grow. 

Their  necks  elongate 

With  increase  of  their  weight 
Till  their  feet  touch  the  ground  and  they  go. 

When  first  a  young  donkey  appears, 
He  hangs  from  the  limb  by  his  ears  ; 

And  he  hangs  till  the  day 

When  he  first  tries  to  bray — 
O,  the  tree  shakes  him  off  when  it  hears  ! 
And  he  runs  away  wagging  his  ears. 

The  birdies  swim  'round  in  the  sea, 
With  the  wasp  and  the  bungleing  bee. 

If  you  dangle  a  worm, 

With  a  wiggley  squirm, 
You  might  catch  a  chick-a-dee-dee. 

The  fishes  swim  'round  in  the  sky, 
With  pollywogs  woggleing  by, 

While  frogs  hop  around 

On  the  clouds  to  the  sound 
Of  the  song  of  the  lobsters  that  fly. 


22  FUNNYLAND 

A   wonderful  Funnyland  sight 
-£"*-     Is  a  mountain  of  very  great  height; 
But  you  never  could  guess 
What  happens  unless 
You  should  be  there  on  Saturday  night. 

When  the  sun  in  the  west  is  aglow 
The  whole  mountain  rumbles,  and  lo, 

It  pours  out  a  stream 

Of  assorted  ice-cream 
By  the  banks  where  the  macaroons  grow. 
Then  from  city  and  country  and  town, 
The  children,  of  king  and  of  clown, 

All  run  with  their  spoons 

And  they  pick  macaroons 
And  they  eat  till  they  have  to  lie  down. 

But  the  thing  that  the  children  adore, 
Is  a  mountain  that  stands  by  the  shore, 

With  a  cratery  pot 

Where  molasses  keeps  hot 
With  trickles  of  taffy  galore. 
Sometimes  it  rains  pop-corn  at  night  ; 
And  all  of  the  kernels  that  light 

On  the  mountain-top,  pop, 

And  they  hop,  and  they  drop, 
Till  the  top  of  the  mountain  is  white  ; 

And  corn  balls  roll  down 

To  the  edge  of  the  town, 
While  the  children  dance  'round  with  delight. 


FUNNYLAND  23 

There's  a  spring  hidden  deep  in  a  glade, 
Of  most  excellent  pink  lemonade. 

It  falls  in  a  pool 

All  bubbly  cool 

From  a  babbling  and  brawling  cascade  ; 
And  the  children,  each  summery  day 
When  they're  thirsty  with  rollicking  play, 

Go  there  and  dip  up 

lyemonade  in  a  cup 
And  drink  till  their  buttons  give  'way. 

When  Funnyland  children  have  chills 
And  fever,  or  colicky  ills, 

They  are  not  put  to  bed 

To  be  poulticed  and  fed 
On  gruel  and  puckery  pills. 
When  the  Doctor  comes  in  to  advise, 
He  says,  as  he  scowls  and  looks  wise  : 
"  You've  been  eating  brown  bread 

And  potatoes  instead 
Of  good  wholesome  candies  and  pies. 
I  can  tell  by  the  look  in  your  eye 
That  you've  kept  your  feet  constantly  dry. 

For  a  lassie  or  lad 

It  is  best  to  be  bad, 
Don't  even  be  good  on  the  sly." 


24  FUNNYLAND 


Funnyland  clerk  of  the  weather 
-*-     Doesn't  waste  his  time  finding  out  whether 

Tomorrow'  11  be  blowy 

Or  sunny  or  snowy  ;  — 
O,  he's  wiser  than  that  altogether. 
He  carefully  studies  the  past 
And  runs  up  a  flag  on  a  mast, 

So  that  people  can  see 

If  there's  going  to  be 
A  thunder  storm  week  before  last. 

THE  hunters  go  forth  to  the  lair 
Of  the  Tiger  with  crimps  in  his  hair. 

And  peppery  snuff 

Is  the  terrible  stuff 

That  they  shoot  at  the  blundering  Bear. 
For  lo,  when  they  happen  to  spy 
The  bears  that  go  wandering  by, 

They  shoot  off  their  gun 

And,  although  the  bears  run, 
They  sneeze  off  their  heads  and  they  die. 


FUNNYLAND  25 


But  they  never  go  hunting  this  way 
For  the  Tiboons  that  live  in  the  bay  ; 

When  they  sneeze,  O,  the  sound 

Cracks  the  air,  and  the  ground 
Wabbles  'round  in  a  terrible  way. 

So  the  King's  Grenadiers, 

With  wool  in  their  ears, 
Stand  always  in  warlike  array 

On  the  edge  of  the  sand 

With  a  fan  in  each  hand 
To  keep  tickley  dust  from  the  bay  ; 

So  the  Tiboons  won't  sneeze 

Shaking  surf  from  the  seas 
And  rattling  the  islands  away. 


King  goes  forth  daily  at  noon, 
-*-     To  parade  with  the  knights  of  the  moon  ; 
And  he's  grandly  arrayed 
In  clothes  that  are  made 
From  the  skin  of  a  raging  Tiboon  ; 
A  roaring  and  ramping  Tiboon. 


26  FUNNYLAND 

There  was  only  one  man  in  the  isles 
Who  was  wily  enough  with  his  wiles 

To  capture  this  beast, 

So  that  people  could  feast 
And  the  King  could  keep  up  with  the  styles. 
He  stealthily  crept  to  the  bay 
While  the  little  Tiboons  were  at  play, 

And  their  parents  were  drowsing 

Or  quietly  browsing. 
(They  can't  rage  the  whole  of  the  day  !  ) 

The  man  waded  quietly  near 

To  the  biggest  Tiboon,  from  the  rear, 

And  he  tied  a  tin  pail 

To  the  end  of  his  tail ; 
O,  the  Tiboon  went  crazy  with  fear  ; 
His  raging  was  awful  to  hear. 

But  he  finally  died 

Of  a  twisted  inside, — 
Thus  ended  his  ramping  career. 


FUNNYLAND  27 

soldiers  are  never  afraid 
-*-     To  march  in  a  long  cavalcade 

To  His  Majesty's  park 

To  shoot  at  a  mark 
Or  take  part  in  a  deadly  parade  ; — 
A  boom-ta-rah-rahing  parade. 

When  the  band  blows  a  blare 

To  crack  open  the  air, 
O,  the  soldiers  are  never  afraid. 
For  years,  through  the  King's  oversight, 
They  had  never  been  called  out  to  fight  ; 

And  they  thirsted  for  gore, 

(Other  people's)  and  swore 
That  they  languished  to  fight  for  the  right. 

One  day  the  King  happened  to  spy 
A  ship  sailing  by  in  the  sky  ; 

And,  I  grieve  to  relate, 

Made  a  face  at  the  Mate, 
And  the  Mate  was  insulted  thereby  ; 
In  fact  "  he  had  blood  in  his  eye." 


28  FUNNYLAND 

So  he  signalled  the  Chief  Engineer 
To  check  the  ship's  raging  career, 

And  the  anchor  dropped  down 

And  caught  on  the  Town, 
While  the  children  all  trembled  with  fear, — 
A  lovely,  blood-curdling  fear  ! 
Then  the  best  parachute  was  prepared, 
And  the  Mate,  while  the  people  all  stared, 

Came  zigzagging  down 

In  the  midst  of  the  town  ; 
But  the  King  didn't  look  a  bit  scared. 
(Though  I  think  that  he  would  if  he'd  dared.) 

The  face  of  the  furious  Mate 

Was  covered  with  whiskers  and  hate  ; 

"  The  people,"  said  he, 

' '  Who  make  faces  at  me 

All  meet  with  a  horrible  fate, — 

A  midnighty,  church-yardy  fate." 
' '  Surrender  your  Funnyland  isle  ! 

Surrender  your  treasury  pile  ! 
Surrender  to  me  !  ' ' 
But  the  King  said,  said  he, 
"  Excuse  me  dear  Sir,  if  I  smile  ! 

(O,  his  smile  could  be  seen  for  a  mile  !) 


FUNNYLAND  29 

When  the  speaking  and  smiling  were  done 
The  army  came  up  at  a  run. 

O,  the  Mate  was  alarmed, 

For  each  soldier  was  armed 
With  a  kind  of  sky-rocketty  gun. 
They  drew  up  in  battle  array 
All  loaded  and  primed  for  the  fray. 

O,  the  racket  was  dire 

At  the  order  to  fire, 
And  the  Mate — why  he  fainted  away. 
('Twas  the  one  way  of  getting  away.) 
Then  there  came  a  most  terrible  crash, 
Such  as  big  things  make,  going  to  smash  ; 

For  the  ship  struck  the  ground, 

And  the  air  all  around 
Was  filled  up  with  splinters  and  trash, 
Dust,  kindling-wood,  oakum  and  hash. 
(The  Captain  and  crew  were  the  hash. ) 

The  Mate  knew  his  chances  were  slim, 
But  he  never  suspected  how  grim 

Was  his  oncoming  fate. 

He  was  destined  to  wait 
On  the  King  who'd  made  faces  at  him, — 
Disrespectful,  wry  faces  at  him  ! 


30  FUNNYLAND 

If  you  ever  should  sail  in  the  air 
As  mate  of  a  ship,  O,  beware  ! 
If  a  King  in  full  view 
Should  make  faces  at  you, 
Don't  suffer  your  anger  to  flare  ; — 
Remember  this  tragic  affair  ! 

THE  Funnyland  chimneys  are  all 
So  large  and  exceedingly  tall, 

That  Santa  Claus  shook 

In  his  shoes  when  he  took 
A  look  at  the  distance  to  fall ; 

Then  he  altered  his  plan 

Like  a  wise  little  man 
And  didn't  climb  chimneys  at  all. 
But  in  dooryards  of  every  degree 
He  planted  a  curious  tree  ; 

And  now  every  year 

When  Christmas  is  near 
The  fruit  is  a  wonder  to  see. 
There  are  dollies  and  trolleys  and  rows 
Of  silky  and  satiny  clothes  ; 

And  candles  and  strings 

Of  tinsel,  and  rings 
For  the  ringers  and  bells  for  the  toes. 


FUNNYLAND  31 

There  are  serpents  and  sugary  hearts  ; 
Tin  soldiers  and  cinnamon  tarts  ; 

While  bicycles  grow 

On  the  branches  below 
With  wagons  and  wabbly  carts. 

There  are  ducks  that  you  squeeze  and  they  squawk  ; 
And  green  polly-parrots  that  talk  ; 

And  filberts  and  figs, 

And  cottony  pigs 

That  you  pull  by  a  string  and  they  walk. 
On  Christmas  Eve  children  go  out 
To  the  Santa  Claus  tree  with  a  shout, 

And  put  baskets  below 

The  things  that  they  know 
That  they  couldn't  be  happy  without. 

Then  Santa  Claus  comes  in  the  night 
When  there  isn't  a  person  in  sight ; 

And  he  chuckles  with  glee 

As  he  climbs  every  tree 
And  shakes  it  with  all  of  his  might. 
Things  rustle  and  rattle  and  flop, 
And  loosen  and  tumble  and  drop, 

Till  the  children  awake 

With  the  noise  that  they  make 
And  the  baskets  are  full  to  the  top. 


32  FUNNYLAND 

Just  think  of  the  wide-open  eyes 
Of  children  awaiting  surprise  ! 

They  tumble  and  twist 

And  sit  up  and  insist 
That  the  sun  has  forgotten  to  rise. 
Then  all,  when  the  windows  grow  gray, 
Run  out  in  their  bedtime  array, 

And  the  frolic  begins  ; — 

They  would  like  to  be  twins 
To  double  the  joy  of  the  day. 


FUNNYLAND  33 

WHEN  slanting  moonbeams  touch  the  hills, 
And  shadows  fill  the  glen  ; 
When  people  all  are  fast  asleep, 

The  little  maids  and  men 
From  Fairyland  come  sliding  down 

The  moonbeams  in  a  row, 
With  tuneful  laugh  and  merry  jest 

And  faces  all  aglow  ; 
As  children  in  the  winter  lands 

Toboggan  on  the  snow. 
The  moonlight  gleams  on  gauzy  wings 

And  glints  from  precious  stones  ; 
And  caps  are  crowned  with  little  bells 

With  silvery  tinkling  tones, 
Each  Fairy  wears  a  cob-web  dress, 

And  through  this  filmy  guise 
The  mischief  shows  in  every  move 

And  sparkles  in  their  eyes. 

And  some  with  bags  of  happy  dreams 

Go  softly  stealing  where 
The  island  children  lie  asleep, 

And  while  they're  unaware 
Untie  the  bags,  and  lo,  the  doors 

Of  wonderland  stand  wide  ! 
I  hope,  my  child,  you've  been  sometimes 

Where  dream-bags  were  untied. 


34  FUNNYLAND 

The  crooked  gnomes,  with  peaked  hats 

And  faces  ill  to  see, 
Come  swiftly  riding  night-mares  too, 

And  with  an  elfish  glee 
They  gallop  over  children  who 

Ate  fruitcake  after  tea. 
I  hope,  my  child,  you  do  not  know 

About  the  things  they  see. 

One  fairy  stole  a  pepper-box 

And  flew  above  the  bay, 
And  scattered  clouds  of  pepper  where 

The  sleeping  Tiboons  lay. 
The  Tiboons  sneezed,  the  islands  shook, 

And  chimneys  tumbled  down. 
The  people  thought  a  foe  had  come 

To  cannonade  the  town. 
The  King  got  up  and  trembled  so 

He  joggled  off  his  crown. 
My  child,  if  Tiboons  chance  to  live 

In  any  neighboring  bay, 
You'd  better  lock  the  pepper  up 

Whenever  you're  away. 

One  night  with  fairy  mandolins 

They  played  such  'witching  strains, 

A  kind  of  dancing  madness  ran 
Through  every  hearer's  veins  ; 


FUNNYLAND  35 

The  players  passed  the  Palace  Gate  ; 

The  King  and  Queen  and  all 
The  people  of  the  household  came 

A-dancing  through  the  hall. 
They  hadn't  time  to  don  their  dress 

Who  heard  the  music's  call. 
They  danced  the  streets,  and  all  who  heard 

The  music  lilt  along, 
Came  tripping  lightly  at  the  sound 

To  join  the  merry  throng  ; 
Till  all  the  people  in  the  isle, 

In  sleeping  clothes  arrayed, 
Were  dancing  in  the  moonlight  night 

In  motley  masquerade. 
They  danced  and  whirled  beside  the  bay 

Where  Tiboons  by  the  score, 
Who'd  heard  the  merry  mandolins, 

Were  skipping  on  the  shore. 
One  Tiboon  gave  his  flipper  to 

His  Majesty  the  King, 
And  there  together  on  the  sand 

They  "  cut  a  pigeon- wing." 
The  Fairies  laughed  until  they  cried, 

'Twas  such  a  funny  thing  ! 


36  FUNNYLAND 

At  dawn  the  Fairies  flew  away  ; 

The  dancing  stopped — ah  me  ! 
The  weariness  and  burning  shame 

Were  very  sad  to  see. 
A  sort  of  Sunday  quiet  filled 

The  isle  from  shore  to  shore  ; 
But  Fairyland  resounded  with 

A  most  hilarious  roar. 
My  child,  when  slanting  moonbeams  fall 

Around  your  house,  beware, 
L,est  Fairies  with  their  mandolins 

Should  catch  you  unaware. 


A  MARSH  LYRIC 

With  humble  apologies  to  the  Shade  of  Edward  Lear. 

HE  went  to  hunt  on  the  marsh,  he  did  ; 
A  middle-aged  man  was  he  ; 
In  spite  of  all  his  friends  could  say, 
On  a  foggy  morn  of  a  Winter's  day 

To  the  mushy  marsh  went  he. 
And  everyone  said  who  saw  him  go  ; 
"  O,  he'll  surely  stick  in  the  slough  below, 
For  the  mud  is  deep  and  the  tide  is  strong 
And  happen  what  may  it's  extremely  wrong 
For  a  man  of  forty  three." 

Slime  and  slough,  slime  and  slough, 

In  the  marsh  where  the  wild  ducks  swim  ; 

Their  heads  are  green  and  their  bills  are  blue 
But  there  wasn't  a  duck  for  him  ! 

The  water  came  into  his  boots,  it  did  ; 

The  water  and  mud  came  in  ; 
But  he  called  aloud,  "  My  boots  will  do 
To  hold  my  feet  and  the  water  too, ' ' 

As  he  held  his  chattering  chin. 
And  he  found  a  fish  and  a  soft-shell  clam 
And  he  said  :   ' '  How  extremely  wise  I  am  ; 
Though  the  marsh  is  broad  and  the  sloughs  are  long, 
I  shall  never  think  I  was  rash  or  wrong 

To  come  where  the  fog  blows  in. ' ' 

Slime  and  slough,  slime  and  slough, 

In  the  marsh  where  the  wild  ducks  swim  ; 

Their  heads  are  green  and  their  bills  are  blue 
But  there  wasn't  a  duck  for  him  ! 


38  A  MARSH  L  YRIC 

He  went  to  the  shore  of  the  bay,  he  did 

To  the  shore  where  the  tules  grow  ; 
And  he  shot  at  a  hawk  and  a  brown  marsh-owl, 
And  a  rail  and  a  teal  and  a  feathery  fowl 

Whose  name  he  didn't  know. 
He  shot  at  a  snipe  and  a  wild  goose  gray, 
And  a  spoonbill  duck  that  didn't  stay, 
And  a  fat  mud-hen  and  a  butter-ball  ; 
And  he  shot  three  times  at  a  heron  tall, 
And  a  pelican  big  and  slow. 

Slime  and  slough,  slime  and  slough, 

In  the  marsh  where  the  wild  ducks  swim  ; 

Their  heads  are  green  and  their  bills  are  blue 
But  there  wasn't  a  duck  for  him  ! 

The  birds  all  laughed  out  loud,  they  did  ; 

To  see  the  hunter  there  ; 
And  they  said  :   "  It's  just  no  end  of  fun 
When  a  middle-aged  man  with  a  great  big  gun 

Shoots  ragged  holes  in  the  air." 
And  the  wild  gray  goose  kept  laughing  till 
The  tears  in  streams  ran  down  his  bill  ; 
For  there's  fun  so  funny,  the  ducks  agree 
That  even  the  biggest  goose  can  see  ; 

But  the  hunter  was  unaware. 

Slime  and  slough,  slime  and  slough, 

In  the  marsh  where  the  wild  ducks  swim  ; 

Their  heads  are  green  and  their  bills  are  blue 
But  there  wasn't  a  duck  for  him  ! 


A  MARSH  L  YRIC  39 

Toward  night  the  man  came  back,  he  did, 

With  movements  sad  and  slow. 
And  they  said  :   "  He's  been  to  the  briny  bay  ; 
And  he  wasn't  drowned  in  the  usual  way  ; 

But  he  hasn't  a  bird  to  show." 
They  gave  him  toast  and  some  tule  tea, 
And  drank  long  life  that  they  couldn't  foresee  ; 
And  everyone  said  :   ' '  Some  other  day 
We  too  will  hunt  by  the  foggy  bay 

Where  the  slimy  sloughs  o'erflow." 

Slime  and  slough,  slime  and  slough, 

In  the  marsh  where  the  wild  ducks  swim  ; 

Their  heads  are  green  and  their  bills  are  blue 
But  there  wasn't  a  duck  for  him  ! 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  BASILISK 

OF  all  the  fearsome,  ugly  things 
With  arms  or  legs  or  fins  or  wings, 
That  haunt  the  earth  or  seas  or  skies, 
The  Basilisk  with  fiery  eyes 
For  fearsomeness  took  every  prize. 
His  home,  within  a  barren  glen, 
Was  shunned  by  beasts  and  birds  and  men. 
It  didn't  matter  ;  what  cared  he 
For  senseless  sociability. 

Daily  the  Basilisk  would  take 

A  trip  down  to  a  boiling  lake 

Of  brimstone  which  he  drank  until 

He  had  to  crawl  with  care  or  spill. 

He  thought  hot  brimstone  just  the  thing 

With  small  blue  flames  for  garnishing. 

He  swallowed  it  without  a  wink  ; 

It  served  him  both  for  food  and  drink. 

Then  stretched  upon  the  blistering  shore 

He  slept,  and  lo,  a  sulphurous  snore 

Resounded  loud  and  long  and  slow 

From  Zululand  to  Borneo. 

None  knew  who  heard  this  fearsome  roar 

Of  what  the  future  held  in  store. 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  BASILISK  41 

When  in  his  most  goodnatured  mood, 
He  basked  content  and  filled  with  food, 
His  mildest  glance  would  kill  a  tree, 
Or  split  a  rock  or  boil  the  sea. 
'Twere  wisdom  then  to  shun  his  path 
If  he  were  roused  to  righteous  wrath. 

The  Imp  who  kept  the  boiling  lake 
Supplied  with  sulphur,  by  mistake 
Sent  all  the  stock  another  way  ; 
The  surface  settled  every  day  ; 
And  then — the  lake  went  wholly  dry. 
It  was  a  fearful  hungry  cry 
With  which,  in  no  placating  mood, 
The  Basilisk  set  out  for  food. 

With  anxious  haste  he  left  the  glen 
And  sought  the  homes  of  beasts  and  men  ; 
For,  lacking  brimstone,  he  could  stand 
'Most  any  food  that  came  to  hand. 
In  fact  he  could,  as  you  can  guess, 
Stand  anything  but  emptyness. 
For  forty  feet  to  left  and  right 
He  blasted  everything  in  sight. 
He  spied  upon  a  distant  steep 
A  peaceful  flock  of  grazing  sheep. 
He  hustled  up,  this  monster  grim, 
For  mutton  was  the  meat  for  him  ! 


42  THE  BOY  AND  THE  BASILISK 

As  he  approached  with  hungry  gaze, 

Each  sheep  burned  up  with  sulphurous  blaze 

And  coming  to  the  place  he  found 

Just  piles  of  ashes  on  the  ground. 

Now  when  a  monster  seeking  food 

Finds  ashes,  the  resulting  mood 

Is  apt  to  be  a  thing  to  dread  ; 

In  fact  he  turned  a  fiery  red. 

He  would  have  turned  white  hot  but  he 

Feared  burning  up  spontaneously. 

He  could  have  raged  and  gnashed  his  jaws  ; 

He  could  have  scratched  with  all  his  claws  ; 

He  had  a  long  and  mighty  tail, 

He  could  have  lashed  it  like  a  flail. 

What  was  the  use,  no  thing  in  sight 

Was  left  whereon  to  vent  his  spite. 

Why  should  he  make  a  grand-stand  play 

With  grand-stands  all  so  far  away  ? 

The  Basilisk  was  not  too  dense 

To  temper  rage  with  common  sense. 

He  reasoned  thus  :   ' '  Since  I  destroy 

By  gazing,  things  I'd  fain  enjoy, 

The  one  conclusion  that  I  find 

Is — I  must  starve  or  go  it  blind." 

He  shut  his  eyelids  with  a  snap 

And  started  out  across  the  map. 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  BASILISK  43 

He  gobbled  here  a  flock  of  sheep, 
And  there  he  found  some  cows  asleep. 
By  working  overtime  he  could 
Obtain  a  modest  livlihood. 
Sometimes  he  made  a  meal  of  men, 
He  could  get  on  with  eight  or  ten. 
A  load  of  wheat,  a  bale  of  hay, 
A  bunch  of  bushes  by  the  way, 
All  these  sufficed  to  partly  fill 
The  need  of  his  digestive  mill. 

Sometimes  when  hunger  would  abate 
From  fullness,  he  would  meditate  ; 
And  burning  curiosity 
Would  fill  his  bosom  full,  for  he 
Was  fain  to  see  the  landscape  where 
He  sought  his  humble  daily  fare. 
But  when  he  chanced  to  crack  his  eye 
All  things  in  sight  would  blaze  and  fry  ; 
And  thus  he  failed  of  his  desire 
To  see  the  country  free  from  fire. 
And  also,  when  he  tried  to  see, 
No  man  in  range  had  time  to  flee. 
Perhaps  'twere  better  just  to  burn 
And  have  one's  ashes  in  an  urn, 
Than  to  be  gobbled  up  and  risk 
One's  self  inside  the  Basilisk. 


44  THE  BOY  AND  THE  BASILISK 

This  Monster  with  his  hungry  wrath 
Left  death  and  ruin  in  his  path  ; 
And  as  he  went  on  pasturing, 
He  neared  the  palace  of  the  King. 
The  King  had  heard  how,  far  away, 
The  Basilisk  made  disarray 
By  skuffing  up  the  landscape's  face 
And  swallowing  the  populace. 
If  this  continued,  it  was  plain 
He'd  have  no  reason  left  to  reign. 
Though  far  above  the  common  mob, 
He  didn't  like  to  lose  his  job. 
'Twas  now  a  far  more  serious  thing, 
The  populace  might  lose  their  King  ! 
So  he  sent  out  a  hurry  call  ; 
The  Council  hustled  to  the  hall, 
And  talked  and  talked  and  talked  some  more 
And  then — a  Basiliskian  roar 
Reverberated  near  and  far  ; 
It  made  the  palace  windows  jar  ! 
Then  silence  fell  and  everyone 
Forgot  to  talk  and  wished  to  run. 
('Tis  hoped  the  reader  won't  mind  this 
Irrelevant  parenthesis. 
Each  King  or  Queen  or  Potentate 
Or  man  who  runs  a  town  or  state, 
Should  have  a  Basilisk  to  stalk 
Around  the  place  for  stopping  talk.) 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  BASILISK  45 

Responding  to  the  King's  command, 

A  man  whose  voice  could  drown  a  band, 

Came  up  and  stood  before  the  the  throne. 

The  King  passed  out  his  megaphone 

And  said  :   ' '  Go  forth  by  every  way 

Unto  my  kingdom's  bound  and  say, 

'Hear  ye,  hear  ye,  the  King  declares 

That  he  who  kills  this  beast  or  scares 

His  hungry  ugliness  away 

To  lands  where  he'll  be  sure  to  stay, 

Shall  be  a  knight  and  have  a  key 

That  fits  the  royal  treasury.'  ' 

The  man  went  forth  straightway  and  tried 

His  voice  upon  the  countryside. 

The  Basilisk,  in  great  surprise, 

Woke  up  and  almost  blinked  his  eyes  ; 

He  wished  so  much  to  see  who  kept 

This  racket  going  while  he  slept. 

At  last  before  he  noticed  it, 

His  eyelids  opened  just  a  slit  ; 

A  little  blaze,  a  little  whir— 

The  King  had  lost  his  messenger  ! 
"  Alas  the  day  !  "   bewailed  the  King, 
"  I  see  my  finish  in  this  thing. 

The  Council  can  convene  no  more 

For  fear  the  Basilisk  may  roar. 


46  THE  BOY  AND  THE  BASILISK 

The  soldiers  are  of  no  avail ; 
You  can't  expect  them  not  to  quail 
When  thinking  of  the  awful  risk 
In  war  against  the  Basilisk." 

Just  then,  a  half  grown  Boy  alone 
Came  in  and  walked  up  to  the  throne, 
And  said  :   "  Your  Majesty,  I  heard 
Your  proclamation.     I  am  stirred 
To  undertake  to  overwhelm 
The  beast  that  now  despoils  the  realm." 
The  King  considered  for  a  while 
And  raised  his  hand  to  hide  a  smile. 
But  though  His  Royal  Highness  smiled, 
'Most  any  plan  however  wild, 
Seemed  in  this  dire  emergency 
Worth  trying  ;  therefore  a  decree 
Went  forth  at  once  to  authorize 
This  Boy's  unusual  enterprise. 
"Farewell,  my  Bo}r,"  called  out  the  King, 
"And  may  you  overcome  the  thing  !  " 
"  Prepare  "  said  he,  "  a  burial  urn 
To  hold  this  youth  on  his  return." 

The  Boy  took  neither  bow  nor  spear, 
Nor  any  other  warlike  gear. 
A  basket,  broom  and  tin  dustpan 
Were  carried  by  a  serving  man. 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  BASILISK  47 

Two  others  carried  on  before 
A  mirror  large  as  any  door. 
Thus  they  went  forth  along  the  way 
Frequented  by  this  beast  of  prey. 
With  mirror  set  and  polished  clear, 
The  party  waited  in  the  rear. 
The  Monster  came  ;  they  could  not  see, 
But  hearing  made  them  wish  to  flee. 
He  blindly  stumbled  up  before 
The  mirror  ;  then  he  heard  a  roar  ; 
He  stopped  ;  his  eyelids  slowly  raised  ; 
His  eyes,  uncovered,  fairly  blazed  ; 
He  saw  himself  ;  he  winked — too  late  ! 
His  mirrored  glance  had  sealed  his  fate. 
A  great  black  smoke,  a  flame,  a  boom, 
Some  ashes  swept  up  with  a  broom  ! 
The  fearsome  Basilisk  had  died, 
Against  his  will,  by  suicide. 
His  ashes  occupied  the  urn 
Prepared  against  the  Boy's  return. 

And  when  the  Boy  grew  up  he  chose 
The  Princess  for  his  bride  and  rose 
To  occupy  the  throne  in  state 
When  Basilisks  were  out  of  date. 


RETRIBUTION 


tired  of  the  twang 
Of  his  bow-string  said  ; 
'  I  will  try  a  boomerang 
In  the  arrow's  stead." 

Pliant  to  his  cunning  art 
Far  the  weapon  whirled  ; 

Touched  a  throbbing  human  heart 
Changed  its  little  world. 

Boomerangs  come  back,  and  this 

Hit  the  careless  elf  ; 
Lo,  into  love's  baleful  bliss 

Cupid  fell  himself. 


o 


WHY  THE  SEA  IS  SALT 

AN  OLD  STORY. 
Long  ago  the  water  was  fresh  that  now  is  salt  in  the  seven  seas. 

INCE  on  a  time  upon  a  moor 

There  lived  a  man  who  grew  so  poor 
That  though  he  toiled  with  all  his  might 
From  early  morn  till  late  at  night, 
He  found  it  harder  every  every  day 
To  keep  the  hunger  wolf  away. 

One  Christmas  eve  in  deep  despair 
He  found  the  cupboards  all  were  bare. 
His  wife  and  children  hungry-eyed 
Their  dumb  reproaches  strove  to  hide  ; 
But  all  in  vain,  their  deep  distress 
Caused  him  to  groan  in  helplessness. 
All  hopelessly  he  turned  about 
To  seek  what  fate  might  hand  him  out. 

His  old  godmother  years  ago 

Had  helped  him  when  his  funds  were  low  ; 

But  she  had  been  for  many  a  day 

Godmothering  so  far  away, 

That  thoughtlessly  she'd  failed  to  heed 

This  godson's  present,  direful  need. 

But  now  by  chance  with  beaming  smile 

She  met  him  e'er  he'd  gone  a  mile. 


50  WHY  THE  SEA  IS  SAL  T 

She  said,  "  Come,  shorten  up  your  face  ; 

The  world's  a  very  pleasant  place  !  " 

Alas,  her  cheer  could  not  avail  ; 

He  told  her  all  his  woeful  tale. 

She  brought  out  from  her  ample  cloak 

A  side  of  bacon  brown  with  smoke, 

And  said,  "Take  this  and  keep  on  straight 

Until  you  reach  an  iron  gate  ; 

It  is  the  gate  of  hell — repress 

Your  tendency  to  nervousness, 

The  Devil  never  would  admit 

A  man  like  you  into  the  pit  ; 

But  with  the  bacon  you  can  go 

Into  the  anteroom  of  woe. 

Now  everybody  knows  full  well 

That  bacon's  very  scarce  in  hell  ; 

And  any  of  the  Devil's  kind 

Would  sell  his  soul  for  bacon  rind.* 

Just  look  behind  the  entrance  door  ; 

You'll  see  a  mill  upon  the  floor. 

Don't  come  away  from  there  until 

You  trade  that  bacon  for  the  mill." 


The  critics  here  will  stop  and  tell 
How  devils  haven't  souls  to  sell. 


WHY  THE  SEA  IS  SALT  51 

And  so  it  happened  in  detail  ; 
The  man's  persistence  did  prevail  ; 
He  took  the  mill  with  him,  while  hell 
Was  filled  with  frying  bacon  smell. 

The  man's  godmother  made  him  stay 
A  minute  on  his  homeward  way, 
That  he  might  gain  the  needed  skill 
To  operate  the  magic  mill. 
With  hands  above  the  mill  outspread 
She  bade  him  listen  well  and  said  : — 

"  Grind,  mill  grind 
The  thing  that's  in  my  mind  ; 
Grind,  mill  grind." 

Round  went  the  mill,  a  ' '  coach  and  four ' ' 
Stood  ready  with  an  open  door. 

"  Stay,  mill  stay, 
No  more  I  pray, 
Stay,  mill  stay." 

So  said  the  dame  ;  and  lo,  the  mill 
Stopped  instantly  and  stood  stock  still. 
(Imagine  how  'twould  be  today 
If  she  had  let  it  grind  away  !) 


52  WHY  THE  SEA  IS  SAL  T 

The  man  turned  round  with  thankful  pride 

To  ask  the  dame  to  have  a  ride  ; 

But  she  had  vanished  ;    with  a  thrill 

He  lifted  up  the  precious  mill, 

Stepped  in  the  coach  and  banged  the  door 

As  if  he'd  done  it  oft  before. 

(He  took  with  grace,  like  you  or  me, 

An  unaccustomed  luxury.) 

He  reached  his  home  and  bolted  in  ; 
The  mill  ground  with  a  merry  din, 
A  table,  chairs,  and  linen  laid 
By  butler  and  a  serving  maid  ; 
A  shining  set  of  silver  plate, 
And  food  and  drink  enough  to  sate 
A  hungry  family,  and  then — 
The  mill  was  asked  to  grind  again. 
'Twas  Christmas  eve  and  all  with  glee 
Asked  of  the  mill  a  Christmas  tree. 

Then  for  each  happy,  weary  head 
It  ground  a  grateful  downy  bed  ; 
And  then,  ah  me,  such  restful  sleep  ! 
For  sweet  and  pleasant  dreams  too  deep. 

But  one  small  daughter  woke  in  fright, 
(I'm  sure  her  supper  wasn't  light.) 


WHY  THE  SEA  IS  SAL  T  53 

And  while  she  lay  there  scared  and  still, 
She  said  the  rhyme  to  start  the  mill. 
Now  nightmares  of  most  every  kind 
Just  then  filled  up  her  little  mind. 
The  mill  began  and  from  its  spout 
Assorted  nightmares  galloped  out. 
They  kept  on  coming  out  until 
The  father  woke  and  stopped  the  mill. 
Alas,  the  nightmares  still  were  there, 
Neighing  and  stamping  everywhere. 
The  man  called  on  the  mill  to  grind 
A  driver  of  the  nightmare  kind  ; 
And  when  one  came  he  stopped  the  mill. 
The  driver  drove  the  nightmares  till 
There  wasn't  one  that  you  could  find  ; 
And  as  he  followed  on  behind 
He  cracked  his  whip  with  leathern  thong 
And  drove  them  back  where  they  belong. 
So  quiet  was  restored  and  then 
They  all  went  back  to  sleep  again. 

The  next  day  saw  a  busy  mill ; 
It  ground  a  mansion  on  a  hill, 
With  all  things  else  they  could  require 
To  make  the  land  of  heart's  desire. 


54  WHY  THE  SEA  IS  SAL  T 

Then,  since  the  man  was  wise,  behold, 
It  ground  the  cellars  full  of  gold. 
And  then  the  mill  was  put  away 
And  never  turned  for  many  a  day. 

A  Captain  of  a  freighting  ship, 
Who  sailed  with  salt,  trip  after  trip, 
Heard  of  the  magic  mill  ;  said  he, 

"  I'd  never  have  to  sail  the  sea 
If  I  could  get  that  mill,  ah  well, 
I'll  ask  the  man  if  he  will  sell." 

"  I'd  never  sell  the  mill,"  said  he, 

"  I'll  give  it  to  you  willingly." 
The  Captain  scarce  could  trust  his  ears  ; 
For  he  had  had  the  gravest  fears 
That  mills  like  this  would  come  so  high 
That  he  could  never  hope  to  buy. 
In  haste  he  took  the  mill  away  ; 
He  feared  that  if  he  made  delay 
The  man  might  chance  to  change  his  mind. 
He'd  learned  the  rhyme  to  make  it  grind, 
But  his  mad  haste  would  not  permit 
His  learning  how  to  make  it  quit. 
He  reached  the  ship  and  sailed  away  ; 
And  when  they  passed  beyond  the  bay 


WHY  THE  SEA  IS  SALT  55 

He  set  the  mill — the  story's  told — 

Where  hatches  opened  to  the  hold. 

Then  said  the  rhyme  to  make  it  grind 

While  only  salt  was  in  his  mind. 

The  salt  streamed  forth,  the  Captain  smiled  ; 

Not  very  long  was  he  beguiled  ; 

The  hold  was  filled  up  to  the  top  ; 

The  Captain  told  the  mill  to  stop. 

It  ground  right  on  without  a  check  ; 

The  salt  was  piling  on  the  deck. 

His  sword  in  anger  then  he  drew 

And  cut  the  fiendish  thing  in  two. 

Each  half  kept  grinding  more  and  more  ; 

The  salt  came  faster  than  before. 

It  sank  the  ship  and  all  were  drowned  ; 

But  still  the  mill  keeps  turning  'round 

And  grinding  salt  ;  so  that  must  be 

The  way  the  salt  came  in  the  sea. 


OVERDONE 

TIME  was  old  and  on  his  way 
Slowly  toiled  ;  it  seemed  the  day 
Ne'er  would  end  ;  it  seemed  the  Sun 
Crawled  the  course  he  used  to  run. 

But  Love  came,  and  when  I  showed 
How  Time  lagged,  he  took  a  goad, 
With  its  sharpened  point  of  steel 
Touched  old  Time  upon  his  heel. 
The  laggard  urged  the  tardy  Sun 
And  like  a  boy  began  to  run. 

Stay,  old  Time,  I  pray  thee  stay  ! 
Why  this  haste  ?  Why  make  the  day 
All  to  short  ?     Why  make  the  Sun 
Fly  the  course  he  used  to  run  ? 


THE  WEST  WIND 

P^HE  King  and  Queen  of  the  Esquimaux 
Came  forth  from  the  royal  palace  to  go 
On  a  ringing  sledge  with  a  great  dog  team 
'Neath  the  clear  still  stars  and  the  fitful  gleam 
Of  the  northern  lights,  on  a  long  night  ride 
To  the  Pole  and  back,  for  the  Queen  was  a  bride, 
And  this  was  their  wedding  tour,   heigh-ho  ! 
For  the  ride  of  the  royal  Esquimaux  ! 

The  King  was  proud  and  the  Queen  was  fair, 
Though  you  wouldn't  have  known  it   had  you  been 

there  ; 

For  they  wore  white  fur  from  top  to  toe, 
And  you  couldn't  tell  t'other  from  which  although 
The  King  felt  taller,   though  'twas  hard  to  see, 
While  the  Queen  was  taller — horizontally. 
At  any  rate  when  ready  to  ride 
The  King  couldn't  reach  round  his  royal  bride. 

The  dogs  were  eager,  they  set  them  free  ; 

They  flew  over  snow  and  the  frozen  sea  ; 

And  the  breath  of  the  dogs  and  the  King  and  Queen 

Like  little  plumes  in  the  cold  so  keen 

Turned  to  frosty  flakes  that  twinkled  bright. 

The  rosy  glow  from  the  northern  light 

Grew  pale  and  wan  in  the  snapping  cold  ; 

But  the  dogs  raced  on  for  the  King  was  bold. 


58  THE   WEST  WIND 

On  the  cold  white  earth,  'neath  the  cold,  cold  sky 
From  the  frozen  sea  to  the  glaciers  high, 
There  wasn't  a  living,  breathing  thing 
Save  the  racing  dogs  and  the  Queen  and  King. 

The  cooling  Queen,  in  esquimau, 

Said,  "  Dear,  how  far  are  we  to  go  ?  " 

The  King's  teeth  chattered  but  he  managed  to  say, 

"  I  have  vowed  on  this  our  wedding  day 
To  show  my  bride  how  the  world  turns  'round, 
And  so,  my  dearest,  we  are  bound 
For  the  cold  north  pole — "   I  regret  to  say 
That  she  broke  in  here  in  a  certain  way 
That  isn't  confined,  as  some  folks  know, 
To  the  land  of  ice  and  the  Esquimaux. 

"  Of  course  "  said  she,  "  I'd  love  to  go 
To  the  ends  of  the  earth  with  you,  but  O, 
I  would  never  dare  to  go  in  sight 
Of  the  old  north  pole  on  such  a  night." 
Now  the  King  was  young  and  the  King  was  bold, 
And  also  newly  married,  behold  ! 
He  cracked  his  whip  ;  with  right  good  will 
The  dogs  flew  northward  faster  still. 
But  though  this  was  his  wedding  day, 
The  King  expected  the  Queen  to  say 


THE  WEST  WIND  59 

A  word  or  two  of  protest — no, 
Not  a  word  was  heard  from  her  although 
Against  her  will  she  was  hurried  away  ; 
So  he  turned — imagine  his  deep  dismay, 
She  was  white  and  still  and  frozen,  alack  ! 
The  King  saw  why  she  didn't  talk  back. 
Now  whatever  the  King  was,  he  wasn't  slow  ; 
He  yelled  the  esquimau  word  for  "whoa." 
They  stopped  and  turned  and  the  cracking  whip 
Urged  the  dogs  due  south  at  a  good  round  clip. 
Said  the  King,  "  O,  Zephyrus,  come  and  blow," 
(He  was  talking  still  in  esquimau) 
'  Blow  north  ;  I  know  that  you  like  best 
To  fan  warm  lands  from  the  warm,  far  west, 
But  just  tor  once  do  come  and  blow 
And  melt  Jack  Frost,  my  family  foe  ; 
And  thaw  my  Queen,  it's  surely  plain 
That  a  frozen  Queen  can't  help  me  to  reign  !  " 

And  Zephyrus  heard  and  softly  blew, 
And  Jack  Frost  heard  the  sound  and  knew 
The  time  had  come  for  him  to  flee  ; 
And  he  fled  far  north  to  the  frozen  sea. 
The  stars  grew  soft  and  the  floating  frost 
Was  turned  to  mist,  and  the  Queen  had  lost 


60  THE   WEST  WIND 

Her  death-like  pallor  ;  a  pink  flush  rose 

To  her  cheeks  and — alas — to  her  little  flat  nose. 

Her  eyelids  fluttered  and  opened  and  then 

She  began  the  unfinished  discussion  again. 

She  looked  at  the  King  and  said,  "  I'm  bound 

That  I  never  shall  see  how  the  world  turns  round." 

And  she  didn't.     The  King  from  that  day  forth 

When  he  took  her  to  drive  never  dared  to  turn  north. 

Alas,  when  they  came  to  their  palace  of  ice, 

They  found  it  a  puddle  that  didn't  look  nice  ; 

For  well-meaning  Zephyrus  just  didn't  know 

That  enough  is  enough  when  they  ask  you  to  blow. 

So  the  King  and  Queen  spent  more  than  a  year 

In  a  rented  tent,  while  an  engineer 

And  an  architect,  at  a  very  high  price, 

Built  a  brand-new  palace  of  brand-new  ice. 

And  there  they  lived  and,  as  you'll  foresee, 

Were  just  as  happy  as  happy  could  be. 

But  Zephyrus,  as  his  wife  fortold, 
Came  home  with  a  very  serious  cold  ; 
And  though  he  improved,  yet  even  today, 
When  he  blows  through  a  pine  tree  on  his  way, 
He  wheezes  asthmatically  all  the  way  through. 
Just  listen  some  time  and  you'll  find  this  true. 


THE  NORTH  WIND 

T  ONG  years  ago  and  far  away, 
•*-^     One  very  sunny,  summer  day, 
In  tropic  lands,  one  special  spot 
Was  very,  very,  very  hot. 

A  King  lay  in  the  sweltering  shade, 
While  crowds  of  dusky  slaves  arrayed 
In  almost  nothing,  tried  to  keep 
His  Highness  cool  enough  to  sleep. 

Though  fans  were  waved  to  stir  the  air, 
Though  fountains  tinkled  everywhere, 
Though  every  noisy  sound  was  stilled, 
Though  sweet  and  cooling  odors  filled 
The  air,  though  lulled  was  every  sense, 
The  King  was  far  from  somnolence. 

Descend,"  said  he,  "  O,  drowsy  god  ; 
Vouchsafe  at  least  to  let  me  nod." 
His  prayer  was  vain,  the  god  'twas  clear, 
Was  out  or  did  not  care  to  hear. 

In  desperation  then  the  King 

Called  up  a  slave  and  bade  him  bring 

Young  Boreas,  a  big,  fat  fool, 

And  said,  "  Why  don't  you  make  it  cool  ? 


62  THE  NORTH   WIND 

Now  Boreas  knew  of  just  one  way 
To  cool  things  off,  for  every  day 
With  mighty  power  of  cheek  and  lung 
He  blew  his  soup  to  save  his  tongue. 
And  so  responding  to  the  King 
He  'gan  to  blow  like  anything. 

The  sunshine  paled,  an  icy  chill 
Came  over  all,  and  plain  and  hill 
Were  frosted  white  ;   in  sound  repose 
The  King  slept  ;  what  is  more  he  froze. 

Still  Boreas  blew  and  blew  until 
There  was  no  sound  except  the  shrill 
Sound  of  his  blowing  ;  all  in  sight 
Was  silenced  by  the  frosty  blight. 

He  stopped,  lo,  all  the  land  was  dead  ; 
In  terror  at  his  deed  he  fled, 
Nor  stopped  for  flood  nor  stick  nor  stone 
Until  he  reached  the  arctic  zone. 
And  there  he  dwells  ;  alas,  we  know 
That  he  remembers  how  to  blow. 


HOW  IT  HAPPENED 

A  MIDST  fair  gardens  long  ago 
**•     Beneath  a  changing  sky, 
There  stood  a  castle,  while  below 

A  stream  flowed  slowly  by. 

A  goodly  man  of  high  degree 

Lived  with  his  lady  there  ; 
And  time  and  fate  had  brought  them  three 

Fair  sons  with  joy  and  care. 

These  boys  played  by  the  river's  rim  ; 

Alas  one  autumn  day 
It  chanced  while  none  was  watching  him 

The  youngest  son  at  play 

Fell  in  a  deep  and  muddy  pool  ; 

The  yells  that  did  resound 
Would  make  it  clear  to  any  fool 

That  someone  might  be  drowned. 

The  father  grabbed  a  handy  hook 

And  ran  his  best  ;   before 
He  reached  the  pool,  the  colored  cook 

Had  brought  the  boy  to  shore. 

The  father  held  him  downside  up, 
And  rolled  him  round  and  round  ; 

He  yelled — joy  filled  the  father's  cup — 
He  couldn't  yell  if  drowned. 


64  HO  W  IT  HAPPENED 

A  joyful  spanking,  then  a  bath, 

Dry  clothes  ;  when  he  came  through, 

Though  deeply  stirred  to  rosy  wrath, 
He  seemed  as  good  as  new. 

The  father  pondered  long — then  sent 

A  note  to  Zeus  which  said  ; 
"  In  general  the  government 
Has  had  an  honest  head. 

But  'gainst  one  thing  I  now  protest  ; 

The  waters  everywhere 
In  north  and  south  and  east  and  west 

Are  left  completely  bare." 

Great  Zeus  had  been  in  politics 
For  years  and  years  and  years  ; 

His  term  approached  its  close,  and  kicks 
Ivike  this  aroused  his  fears 

That  reelection  now  might  fail. 

He  told  Jack  Frost  to  plan 
Whatever  measure  might  avail 

To  satisfy  the  man. 

And  so  Jack  Frost  invented  ice, 
And  spread  it  clear  and  thin 

Upon  the  waters  ;  this  device 
Kept  folks  from  falling  in. 


HO  W  IT  HAPPENED  65 

Alas,  he  did  not  dare  to  go 

Far  in  the  temperate  zone  ; 
The  warm  South  Wind,  his  bitter  foe, 

Might  catch  him  there  alone. 

And  now  when  Spring  comes  back  in  May, 

With  robins  in  her  train, 
Jack  Frost,  the  coward,  flees  away 

And  waits  for  Winter's  reign. 

The  ice  without  his  constant  care, 
Grown  thin  and  weak  and  brown, 

Runs  off  and  leaves  the  water  bare, 
And  anyone  may  drown. 


THE  FIRST  MIST 

ONCE  Hermes  paused  in  arrowy  flight 
And  while  he  hovered  to  alight, 
Beheld  a  winsome  mortal  maid  ; 
With  other  maids  she  danced  and  played  ; 
They  all  were  fair  ;  he  thought  this  one 
The  fairest  thing  beneath  the  sun. 

Then  Hermes,  like  a  golden  gleam, 

Darted  and  dropped  beside  a  stream  ; 

He  called  up  from  the  water  clear 

A  naiad  ;  in  her  dripping  ear 

He  whispered  long  and  low7,  while  she 

Nodded  and  chuckled  pleasantly. 

She  waved  her  hand  ;  he  flew  away  ; 

A  mist  formed  'round  the  maids  at  play. 

Then  flying  Hermes  did  invade 

The  thickening  mist  and  kissed  the  maid, 

And  flew  reluctantly  away 

With  sighs  and  smiles  ;   (for  many  a  day 

Olympian  letters  went  astray.) 

The  other  maidens  midst  the  mist, 
Where  they  stood  silently  unkissed, 
Saw  nothing  though  they  heard  a  sound 
lyike  rose  leaves  falling  on  the  ground. 
The  mist  grew  thin  that  had  concealed 
The  startled  maid  ;  she  stood  revealed 
With  conscious  blush  and  just  below 
A  budding  branch  of  mistletoe. 

And  so  the  whole  world  came  to  know 
Of  mist  and  maids  and  mistletoe. 


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